


Good Boys Should Know Better

by theunavenged (sulahnnehn)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sulahnnehn/pseuds/theunavenged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gut-wrenching AK!Jay drabble that I wrote to please my Tumblr followers who seem to prefer my sad stuff over my cute stuff, heh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boys Should Know Better

**Author's Note:**

> Also on Tumblr: <http://tmblr.co/Z-roqj1xO5lJf>

“Please sir, I’m sorry,” Jason’s voice cracked, his throat raw from screaming. He tried to push his broken body deeper into his corner, his bare feet slipping against the blood-splattered photos that littered the floor, hundreds of photos of Batman and his new Robin. “I’m sorry for everything,” he cried. “Please don’t punish me again. I’ve been a good boy like you asked. Please sir, _please_.”

He should’ve learned months ago that begging was useless. Joker just kept on humming his happy little tune as he strolled closer, his hands clasped behind his back, a twisted red grin stretched across his bleached white face. Jason struggled against his bonds, tugging with every ounce of his dwindling strength at the rope and barbed wire wrapped around his forearms as terror descended upon him again. That tune... _that goddamned tune_... clawed against the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard. He was so frightened of what was about to happen that he would’ve puked if he had anything in his stomach.

Two Arkham orderlies with their stone cold faces took their places by the door, looking bored while they waited for their employer to have his fun. When Joker finally stopped in front of him, Jason ceased his pointless struggling. He slumped against the wall, softly whimpering as he submitted like a whipped dog with his tail tucked between his legs. It was easier to just surrender, to obey.

Joker grabbed a handful of matted black hair and yanked him forward, dragging his skinned knees through the sea of photos.

“Why?” he cried, as Joker dropped him in the center of the room. “Why, _why_?” he begged as the pair of orderlies took hold of him. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong sir. I’ve tried to be good, I swear.” He was too weak to fight the orderlies as they strung him up on the hook hanging from the ceiling. He dangled helplessly like a slab of raw meat awaiting the butcher. “Oh God, not again,” he sobbed, his entire body shaking with panic. “Please not again.”

Joker had his back to Jason as he leaned over a workbench, fingering through the dozens of implements that were neatly arranged on its wooden top. Jason knew most of the implements—knives, saws, hammers, pliers, crowbars—and the memory of their touch made his heart leap in his chest, into his throat. The fear strangled him, and he began to cough, tears streaming down his battered cheeks as he gasped for breath.

“We’ve had this conversation before, remember kid?” Joker said without turning. “Tsk, tsk. Bats really lucked out when I snatched you up and gave him an excuse to replace you and that _thick skull_ of yours.” A few harrowing seconds later, Joker returned to Jason, concealing his chosen weapon in a gloved hand behind his back. “What was he thinking, taking a loser like you under his wing? I say he owes me a big thank you, wouldn’t you agree my boy?”

Joker’s words cut deeper than any of the knives on that table. It was easy to forget the lessons he’d learned in this room when that old boy, the scrappy street kid who fought alongside Batman, was always waiting on the edge of his consciousness, ready to creep in and try to take over. But that boy was a miserable failure, such a disappointment to his “father” that he was abruptly replaced and forgotten. Jason had to remember that he was nobody now, just a discarded plaything left to rot in this house of horrors; and the only person in the entire world who cared for him was standing before him. Jason desperately needed—no, _wanted_ —to please him.

“Yes sir,” he answered softly, his tear-filled voice barely more than a whisper. He hung his head in shame at the sniveling coward he’d become.

“ _Why am I punishing you_ , you ask?” Jason winced as Joker took his chin in hand and lifted his head. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost tender, but there was no mistaking his twisted intentions when Jason looked into those bloodshot green eyes of his. “Let’s review this one last time, shall we? And do try to pay attention this time. You know how your Uncle J hates to repeat himself.”

Joker grabbed the filthy bandage that was wrapped around Jason’s head and tore it off. Jason shrieked in pain as chunks of skin and clumps of hair that clung to the bandage were ripped away from his scalp. Blood and pus dribbled down the side of his face from the infected wound where the bullet had grazed his skull. Joker leaned in close enough to whisper in Jason’s ear then stabbed a long, bony finger into the hole in the side of his head. “ _Because good boys_ know _when they’re supposed to die._ ”


End file.
